


In Thought

by Aris



Series: Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Gen, Prompt Fill, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris/pseuds/Aris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>Tony's brilliant, but even his mind can only process so much. He can do 10 thoughts per second, but 11 is too much, so to speak. Every now and then he needs a moment to catch up, so he just... stops, or throws out some processes that are less important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Thought

**Author's Note:**

> So sorry for any typos (it's late here!).

"Tony! Thor broke the toaster, _again!_ "

Clint's voice is high-pitched and teasing and immediately followed by a deep and indignant 'This is untrue, friend!' and it's all Tony can do to keep back a sigh. He remembers when his tower had been relaxing, when he could stroll into the lounge and sit back on the couch with a tumbler of whiskey and not have to think to check for a certain mythical hammer or the broken end of an exploding arrow. A few months ago he would not have been bugged by a serious-faced Bruce about how much he's eaten today and the worry of bumping into Steve Rogers, America's own golden boy, and being questioned about his alcohol consumption had definitely not been in the cards.

It beats being lonely, at least.

Thor's managed to jam a slice of bread - more like a hunk, really - in the toaster and is attempting to scrape it out using a fork, brow furrowing against the series of metallic spring noises taking place.

Tony is forcibly reminded of a certain light-haired kid whose daddy left him, but casts the memory aside in favour of stopping Thor from mauling his toaster - it was custom made, god damn it - and even if Thor is the God of Thunder, Tony's pretty positive a voltage kick might be a little more surprising than not. 

"Thor," Tony curls his hand round the thick wrist of the God, "we don't put metal objects into electrical objects. We also don't maul other people's things." he takes the fork from Thor's hand and places it on the counter, ignoring the kicked-puppy looking getting shot his way. Tony really should make the kitchen appliances Norse God-proof, a rubber lining on the inside, maybe? Would that compromise the quality of the toast? But he's already working on movement-sensitive repulsors for a more accurate landing and a higher probability of hitting a desired target, not to mention JARVIS's new updates he'd had in line for weeks; he's really starting to feel quite tired, but he tried sleeping last night and all he could think about is adding more back support to the Iron Patriot so Rhodey will shut up about his delicate little back everytime he calls.

"Look, turn it off by the plug and wait for it to cool down, or get one of those-"

_Oh._

He's shooting down the staircase faster than Clint can call back after him, barely acknowledging the slight impact on his shoulder that could have been somebody.

###### 

Tony's on the floor with half of a crystal tumbler sticking out of his hand and arm before he realises he wasn't paying attention to his feet, too caught up in the not yet solidified designs of Mark 61. He still has to get down the blueprints for Mark 54, but it never hurts to think ahead. Or, he thinks, watching blood start to pool in the palm of his hand, it does hurt. Just not in the way he was thinking of. Or rather wasn't thinking of. His head kind of aches too much for anything to make sense.

"Tony?" Oh, yeah - Pepper's home today, is it Friday already? "Tony what happened?"

"Pepper, I'm so sorry, I thought it was Thursday and-" Pepper grabs his hand and unintentionally pushes the crystal shards in deeper, ripping a low whine from Tony's throat. Tony still kind of feels like the worst person on the whole planet because he _knew_ he promised to pick Pepper up from the airport, but not even his streak of self-destruction can stop him pulling his hand back towards him, away from red-painted nails and dark, long heels that unwittingly caused him pain.

There's a pause where Pepper just stands there, and Tony can feel her eyes boring into his neck and he wants to shy away, self conscious, but then she's back at his side, warm hand resting on his back and gentle, cooing words spilling from her lips. She helps him to his feet, minding the crystal on the floor and carefully keeping his cut arm in one position, preventing the shards from slicing any deeper. As he rises, Tony can't help but notice the way the changing light reflects against the pieces, the shimmer running down the length of his arm and mixing with the surprisingly bright hues of blood.

Well, at least he knows he's human.

Bruce's face goes from annoyed to alarmed in exactly 0.7 of a second (not that Tony counted) when Pepper enters the lab, one arm firmly around him. He rushes over, hands instantly going to touch the wounded arm; but Tony flinches away, the dull ache suddenly coming to the forefront of his mind, overtaking the refurbishment plans for the 7th floor. His hand and arm hurt, sting after little sting tweaking at his nerves, making his teeth grate and his eyes twitch. 

Bruce stops talking after Pepper smoothly explains, and Tony's sat down on a chair (leather, brown - Bruce's favourite). It's warm, and mildly comforting, but Tony feels numb enough that brushing the quiet _why?_ that springs to mind is easy enough, especially when Bruce starts to pick tiny shards from his skin, miniature, dangling scraps flesh coming with the pieces from his hand.

It looks like it should hurt. Tony makes the appropriate noises, but wonders whether Bruce would notice him installing self-sustaining heating panels into the chair he's sat on. Most likely. Bruce, when not out in the lounge, is almost always in his lab, tinkering and testing - almost, but not quite, as obsessed as Tony. Bruce likes warmth, Tony knows, and he's sure after the initial 'Stark's messing with people stuff again' eye roll he'd secretly love it.

He's totally going to do it next time it's Bruce's turn to make dinner.

"Tony?"

Tony hums in reply, eyes watching the crystal fall into a metal tray besides him.

"Are you okay?" Tony goes to reply, the first consonant of 'yes' out of his mouth before Banner cuts across again, hand momentarily stilling in its task "I mean, really. The team's worried, you've... you've been quite distant lately. Thor thinks he's done something to annoy you and Clint acts like someone kicked Tash every time you don't hear him, or ignore him. I don't want to pry, Tony but..."

A tiny _ting!_ as a shard lands into the bowl.

"We're here for you. We're a team."

Tony kind of feels like smiling. It's nice.


End file.
